


I just want to fold you up and keep you warm

by dnitegirl



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Blowjobs, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, M/M, Modern AU, philippe is too good for this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnitegirl/pseuds/dnitegirl
Summary: Alex would have told him this was an awful idea, to follow Philippe, a man that he met only two weeks ago by chance in some foreign country, into his apartment. But it was pouring, and Tommy couldn’t stand the squish of soaked socks in his shoes any longer.





	I just want to fold you up and keep you warm

It was just to keep dry. That was what Tommy told himself as he ran down the rainy Parisian streets after Philippe.

Alex would have told him this was an awful idea, to follow Philippe, a man that he met only two weeks ago by chance in some foreign country, into his apartment. But it was pouring, and Tommy couldn’t stand the squish of soaked socks in his shoes any longer.

Despite his discomfort though, Tommy laughed as Philippe unlocked the door, both of them grinning widely as they hurried inside for shelter. They had only known each other for a short time, but Tommy felt more comfortable with Philippe than he had practically anyone else in his life. It was strange, his heart pounded and his stomach twisted every time he was in Philippe’s vicinity, and yet Tommy was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The man made Tommy want to be the best version of himself, like gaining Philippe’s approval was the answer to everything in the universe.

It was a shame Tommy hadn’t quite been truthful with him. When they had met, Tommy told Philippe that he was in France for a summer class, which was the in fact the case. However, Tommy had just failed to correct Philippe when the man assumed he was in university rather than the secondary school he and Alex attended. It shouldn’t have even mattered in the first place. He was one of the older kids in his class, already having turned eighteen earlier that summer. Though by this point it was too late to set the record straight.

Should he have been honest? Yes. Philippe deserved to know he had been running around with a guy practically ten years his younger, but there was a twinkle in Philippe’s eyes when they looked at one another that Tommy didn’t want to snuff out. 

The same twinkle that Tommy could see now, under dangling, dripping curls. Philippe let out another soft chuckle, looking him up and down. Tommy felt warm under that gaze even with the air conditioner blowing against his drenched self.

“Would you eh, like to borrow clothes? You are very wet.” Philippe asked in his heavy French accent, speaking slowly as he searched for the right words.  Communication between them was far from perfect, but Tommy didn’t mind. Especially when the words he did use had Tommy feeling giddy. 

“S-sure.” It was only upon speaking, that Tommy realized he was shivering.

“I… will be back then. Please, make yourself at home.” Philippe lead him further inside the apartment, before heading down a hall and into another room. 

Tommy stood awkwardly in a living room, trying to not drip too much on the wooden floor. The apartment, from what Tommy could see, was a comfortable size. Philippe could afford to live here alone on a journalist’s salary apparently. It was tidy, impressive considering Philippe hadn’t been expecting guests. Tommy would sit down on the couch if not for fear of ruining the furniture in his state. Instead, he glanced at one of the many bookshelves, in hopes of getting a good idea of what Philippe liked. Not that it helped, considering all of the titles were in French.

Thankfully, Philippe returned only moments later. His hair was still wet, but he had redressed in a loose fitting, blue v neck, and plaid green pajama pants. Tommy stared dumbly, barely noticing as a bundle of clothes was handed to him. 

“Bathroom is down hall, on the right. You can change there.” Philippe explained as Tommy took the clothes.

Their hands brushed ever so slightly, and a jolt of excitement ran through Tommy body. It was ridiculous to let such small touches get the better of him,  but he couldn’t help himself. Since they first met, Tommy had felt the tell tale signs of a stupid schoolboy crush overtaking him. It only got worse with every encounter they had since. Here he was, in France, supposed to be in an intensive class learning about French History when all he could think of was Philippe.  

Before doing something stupid, Tommy hurried off to change. It was a bigger relief than expected, getting out of the soaked clothes. Tommy tossed them to the tile with a heavy plopt.

Tommy started putting on the t-shirt provided, but his nose brushed the fabric and he stilled. Philippe’s clothes… they carried that musky in all the best ways scent he had grown to associate with the man. Burying his face within the fabric, he took a deep breath, filling his senses with that smell. For several long moments, he just stood like that in the bathroom, clad in only damp boxers, before finally pulling the shirt over his head.

Only once he looked himself over in the mirror, did he have the decency to feel absolutely ashamed of himself. He was a guest, not some mooning stalker, and he had better start acting right.

He finished dressing, slipping on a pair of sweatpants, and was pleasantly surprised to find they wore practically the same size. Picking up the wet pile, Tommy calmed his nerves and headed back out to Philippe. “Wasn’t sure what to do with these.” 

Philippe had been leaning against the counter, focused on his phone, only looking up when Tommy spoke. His gaze lingered on Tommy, biting down on his lower lip. Time was moving in slow motion, and there was a long pause before Philippe finally spoke. “I put in dryer. They shall finish before rain stops.” He took the clothes from Tommy and went behind a door near the kitchen. 

“Thanks.” Tommy didn’t know what else to say. A silence passed over them, the only sounds were the press of dryer buttons. Everything felt so tense all of a sudden. It wasn’t like their times outside at cafes and walking the streets, where everything was easy light hearted banter. A thick cloud of tension filled the room, though Tommy tried shaking it off. It was just in his head. He was already overthinking everything as is. 

The noise of the dryer started up and Philippe returned. He looked over Tommy once again, though now he seemed more amused. “Please… eh… relax, sit down. Want to play cards to pass time?”

“Sure.” Tommy said in half hearted response. He didn’t particularly care what they did, just being here was enough. Not that he could tell Philippe that without likely freaking the older man out. As suggested, he sat down on one end of the couch, on the edge of the cushion so he could reach the coffee table in front of him. Philippe had produced a deck of cards, and rather than sit on the chair opposite Tommy as expected, he settled down on the couch as well. 

Philippe shuffled and dealt out the cards. The game was simple, something French that Philippe explained the rules easily enough. Not that Tommy was concentrating particularly hard on it. His mind was both far away and completely engrossed in the present. The game meant nothing to him, but he was taking in the smallest details, how Philippe moved his hands, watching the elegant motions of his fingers as he sifted through cards.

As they played, Philippe struck up casual conversation, from his work to what he should show Tommy in the city on their next outing. The longer Philippe talked though, Tommy grew more distant, zoning out. His mind wandering off, thinking of the night in abstract. 

Alex hadn’t liked Philippe when they met, thought he was bad news. But Tommy had been in Philippe’s company far more than Alex had, and he had nothing but good impressions. But perhaps Alex was right, and Philippe’s hair, and his eyes, and his overall goodness had just lured Tommy into a false sense of security. But Tommy still didn’t feel that was the case.

“Tommy? Tommy, you ok?” 

There was a slight shake to his shoulder, pulling him back to the present. Tommy blinked, failing to recall the last few moments. “Oh, sorry, what were you asking?”

“I asked how your class is. But you did not answer. Are you sick?” Philippe asked, concerned.

Tommy shook his head. “‘M fine. Promise.” 

“If you are sure.” Philippe gave him a soft smile, scooting ever so slightly closer. Their legs bumped against one another. 

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, to return the conversation back to the dropped thread of his class, but nothing came out. Nervously, he swallowed, fighting down a sudden lump in his throat. 

To his greater surprise, Philippe moved even closer. He leaned in, tucking a damp strand of hair that had fallen into Tommy’s face behind his ear. His hand remained, soft thumb gently resting at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy was positive his heart was about to burst out of his chest. It hurt, hammering against his ribcage, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to end. 

Philippe sat still, aside from slow up and down strokes of his thumb. He stared for a long while, concentrated. It was as if time stopped, and Tommy would have given anything to know what Philippe was thinking in that moment.

But then the hand retracted itself. Philippe sighed, almost… disappointed? He turned away and started to stand.

Tommy went into a panic. No, where was he going? Why was he leaving?

On impulse, Tommy tugged Philippe back down, and kissed him.

It was uncoordinated, awkward. Tommy had nothing to compare it to. He had never kissed anyone, nor had he ever been kissed. Lips just pressed against Philippe’s warm, surprisingly soft mouth. But nothing was happening. Philippe sat there, unmoving.

Was Tommy doing something wrong? Had he misunderstood? Fuck, what if Philippe didn’t even like men?

Tommy pulled back. Philippe was wide eyed. Oh god, this was a disaster. Opening his mouth, Tommy was ready to apologize, ready to save whatever pieces of their short lived friendship he could after this. “I’m so-”

He couldn’t get another word out. Philippe closed what little distance Tommy had created, and kissed him back. 

It was slow, a gentle glide of lips. A shiver ran down Tommy's body, and once he realized exactly what was happening, he leaned into the kiss enthusiastically. He tried thinking of movies, of novels, of watching Alex make out with his girl(s) of the week, just anything for inspiration. Lips parted and he let his tongue slide against Philippe’s mouth. It was wet and messy, and Tommy had no idea what he was doing. He turned his head, for what he hoped would be a better angle, only to bump his nose hard against Philippe’s. 

Tommy broke the kiss, rubbing his nose where they collided. Looking up he saw Philippe doing the same. This was awful. He was making an absolute fool of himself. “Sorry.”

But Philippe was grinning, giggling light heartedly. He cupped Tommy’s cheek once more, thumb tracing his lips. “Is ok. Just… slower. Let me.” And he guided Tommy into yet another kiss.

This one much more restrained. Philippe took control, his gentle hand reining Tommy in. Wherever Philippe moved him, he would go. He was putty in the frenchman’s grasp. Fingers traced down his side, and Tommy gasped into the kiss, his whole body tingling.

Tommy slid a hesitant hand into Philippe’s hair. A tangled curl caught on his finger, and on accident, tugged sharply. Dread filled Tommy for a brief instant, he couldn’t do anything right. However, rather than scold Tommy, Philippe moaned against his lips, drawing closer. Interesting…

Soon their bodies were pressed against one another, and their kiss grew more frantic. Tommy’s confidence rose with every passing second. His shy and awkward manner slipping away. Overthinking and self doubt replaced with just letting his body act. He was needy and touch starved, and Philippe was satisfying every part of his being. This whole night was practically a dream, but he would enjoy every moment.

Just as Tommy thought he had the hang of everything, Philippe pressed him down into the couch. Tommy’s back hit the cushion and Philippe hovered over him, kissing to his jaw, his neck, nipping at his ear. None of this registered as too racy, at least, until Philippe slotted himself between Tommy’s legs. Philippe grinded down, his hips pressing against Tommy’s clothed erection. 

Tommy froze, breathless. It wasn’t that the sensation was unpleasant, far from it, but the stupid naive voice in the back of his head started up again. This was moving fast, faster than he could have anticipated. To go from having his first kiss, to only moments later, have  _ this _ happening, it was overwhelming.

Philippe pulled back, looking down at Tommy curiously. “Are you okay? Should we stop?” There was no judgement in his voice. Just pure kindness and concern, and Tommy fell even deeper for the man. 

Now was Tommy’s chance, to tell Philippe that this was too much, too fast, that he was a virgin in over his head. 

But he didn’t. A war battled in his mind. Yes he was horribly nervous, stomach clenching uncomfortably tight, but a stronger part of Tommy was curious, wanted to see where this could go. Tommy took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, I’m alright. I just realized I…” He paused, thinking of some excuse for stopping. “I should send Alex a message. Um… If I’m uh… gunna stay over, then he’ll need to cover for me.”

Philippe stared at him for a moment, brows furrowed in thought, before smiling bright. “So you are staying?”

Shit. He shouldn’t have made such an assumption. “If that’s okay with you?”

If possible, Philippe smiled wider. “Is  _ very _ okay.” He gave Tommy another quick kiss before sliding off him to give him some room. “Message your friend.”

Tommy’s heart was beating rapid fire, hands were practically shaking as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He typed and retyped his message, trying to get something legible despite his state. 

**[staying out tonite. cover for me if not back by morning.]**

Message sent, he turned his phone off and tossed it to the side. Alex was sure to ask a hundred questions, none of which Tommy wanted to even think about. 

Philippe gently took Tommy by the arm and pulled him off the couch. “Since you stay, we move to bed?” 

“S-sure.” Tommy stammered in response as Philippe threaded their fingers together.  He was lead deeper into the apartment, just down the hall and into a comfortable sized room. It was a bit messier in here compared to the rest of the apartment, stacks of books and a pile of clothes, including the rain soaked ones, were scattered throughout the room. Tommy did his best to not trip over anything. A full sized bed, sheets bunched up, took up the far corner. Tommy’s heart did a flip upon seeing it.

Philippe let go of his hand long enough to shut the door. He moved right in front of Tommy, looking him over with a smirk on his face. A hand ran down Tommy’s chest, gliding down his side, stopping only at his hip. Tommy shivered. Trying to regain some of his confidence from earlier, he wrapped his arms around Philippe’s neck, pressing them together once again with a kiss. He could do this.

A hand stroked his back as they embraced. Pleased moans resonated from within Philippe, and to Tommy’s surprise, himself as well. Philippe snuck a hand under the borrowed shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin. Tommy gasped out, his chest heaving against Philippe’s.

Using the break in their connection, Philippe tugged the shirt up, and with some maneuvering, pulled it off entirely, leaving Tommy bare-chested.

Tommy didn’t have much time to think about this before Philippe pulled his own shirt off and guiding Tommy backwards. His legs bumped what must have been the bed frame, and he was pushed the rest of the way down, his back hitting the mattress with a bounce. Philippe was on top of him in an instant, chest against chest, skin against skin. Philippe’s lips latched right back onto his, kissing him with a hungry ferocity.

There was so much going on. Tommy was getting lightheaded. Every little touch was a spark to his senses. He was shirtless, yet he was still sweating, burning up. His cock ached, trapped, but he avoided bringing any attention to it, fear of the unknown all encompassing. Despite everything, he tried to keep up, doing his best to match Philippe for every kiss, every stroke of bare skin.

Philippe’s lips trailed down, stopping only to nip at his collarbone, to swipe his tongue at a nipple. Then he reached where skin ended and borrowed sweatpants began. His finger hooked into the waistband and Philippe finally looked up at Tommy with a smirk. 

But his face immediately fell. “Tommy? Are you sure you are ok? You are pale.”

Tommy swallowed, looking up at the white ceiling, at anything besides Philippe between his legs. It was good, everything was so fucking good, yet he found himself paralyzed, tensing under that dark gaze. Why now? He wanted it, god knows he did. But he couldn’t get himself to calm down. Taking a deep breath, he replied shakily. He could do this. “Y-yeah. I… yeah. I’m…”

Philippe moved back up, laying beside Tommy, giving him some breathing space. No, no, no. That wasn’t want he wanted. He was okay, he could continue. But the words wouldn’t come out. Why did he have to go ruin this?

“Tommy, can I ask something?” Philippe asked, voice soft and even.

Trembling, Tommy managed a nod. “S-sure.”

“Have you done this before? Been with a man I mean?”

Tommy closed his eyes, sinking in on himself, arms folding in on his chest, suddenly feeling exposed. He shook his head. 

“Have you been with anyone at all?” Philippe’s voice was just as soft.

Again Tommy shook his head. 

“You should have said something.” Despite everything, he sounded concerned, as non judgemental as always. “I would not have been so… eh…” He trailed off, gesturing, as he normally did when searching for a word.

“’M sorry.” Tommy cracked out, his throat tight with shame and emotion. “I thought if I said something, you’d stop, or tell me to go home.”

It was Philippe’s turn to shake his head. “No, no. It is okay. There is no problem. I just want you to feel safe.” Philippe cupped his cheek with a much more careful hand. “We do not have to stop if you do not want to.”

Tommy melted under the touch. A weight lifted from him, tension falling as he realized he didn’t have to act more experienced than he was. “T-thank you. I should be fine. It’s just a lot to take in.”

Philippe smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “It is alright if you change mind.”

Tommy let out a soft chuckle. “Doubtful.”

He met Philippe’s gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. Philippe looked at him with utmost affection and Tommy knew then everything would be alright. What had he done to deserve this wonderful man? 

Pushing past whatever anxiety he had left, Tommy leaned in and pressed their lips together once more. It was closer to their first kiss, slow, and sweet. The hurried frenzy from earlier was gone, replaced with a relaxed tenderness. There was no rush. They had the rest of the night after all, to go at whatever pace Tommy wanted.

Philippe was patient with him, not pushing Tommy past where he was comfortable. He still maintained control, but every movement, every kiss and touch came with an unspoken question of permission. Tommy was appreciative. He loved the attention, relished every stroke of his skin, and this way he could allow himself to work up to more. Baby steps rather than be smothered by everything at once.

They laid there, lips against lips, for some time, giving them a chance to map out each other’s bodies with their hands. Tommy became quite familiar with every curve of muscle and expanse of skin of Philippe’s upper half, just has he was sure Philippe had for him. The sounds of the creaking mattress, their sharp gasps, and the slide of skin on skin, resonated through the room, making for some if the sweetest music Tommy had ever heard.

On occasion, Philippe would brush against Tommy’s boundaries, as if testing to see what Tommy had loosened up to. Sometimes it was rolling a nipple with his thumb, though it was also more innocent actions, placing an arm at the small of his back and nudging him closer. If Tommy displayed any hesitation, Philippe would back off. Though the longer they laid there kissing, the more Tommy grew comfortable with.

Soon, Philippe put a testing hand at Tommy’s waistband. Tommy didn’t flinch or freeze, but even so, Philippe asks, “Is okay?”

His panic from earlier had been replaced with a certain neediness. Tommy rolled up against Philippe with a whine. Still, Philippe’s hand remained, as if expecting an answer. Tommy hurriedly nodded, Philippe’s new found patience now being more a hindrance than help.

Suddenly, it was as if Philippe was just as eager to get Tommy’s pants off as he was. His remaining clothes were tugged from his body and tossed to the floor. Tommy was left laying bare on his back, his cock throbbing, exposed.

But Tommy didn’t have a chance to let any sense of awkwardness creep in. Those same cautious fingertips swept along the sensitive skin from base to tip. Tommy’s breath hitched with wanting. Only when Tommy nodded again, did Philippe’s careful hand wrap around his cock, stroking him ever so slowly.

It was torture, beautiful, wonderful torture. Despite the lethargic pace, Philippe clearly knew exactly what he was doing. Tommy’s own hand was one thing, but this… this was phenomenal. Hips bucked into Philippe’s hand, practically begging for more. But Philippe kept that same languid manner like he was trying to drive Tommy insane. Fingers tightened into the sheets as he grasped for something to keep him grounded.

As if tormenting him further, Philippe removed his hand from Tommy’s cock entirely. Tommy whined like a spoiled child and Philippe just looked down on him with that knowing smirk of his. Tommy wanted to shout, to call Philippe a sadistic bastard, but then Tommy felt a hand nudge his legs apart. A fingertip ghosted down, past his cock, past his scrotum, stopping only at his entrance. A small circle traced around the rim and Tommy’s eyes went wide.

Philippe’s smirk vanished, and patience and concern took its place.

The silent question asked and Tommy had his answer. After an uneven breath, he nodded.

Philippe smiled, and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Still hovering over Tommy, he reached into a bedside drawer. Tommy could hear the shuffling of various items before Philippe settled on something and moved back, kissing his way down Tommy’s body. There was a plastic click, a soft kiss to his thigh, and Tommy felt a slick finger pressing at his entrance. He couldn’t help but tense up.

“Shhh.” Philippe cooed, reaching up with his free hand to take Tommy’s. He gave it a comforting squeeze and it was enough for Tommy to calm himself.

It was a strange feeling, Philippe’s finger slipping inside. It didn’t hurt, not like he expected. But it did take some getting used to. Thankfully, Philippe gave him more than enough time to adjust before moving. Tommy clung to his hand as Philippe worked him open, his breath catching with every stretch. Eyes squeezed shut as he laid back, focusing on every sensation.

A wet heat slid along his neglected cock, and Tommy’s eyes shot open to be met with the sight of Philippe hovering his lips over the tip. Tommy shuddered with anticipation. Philippe’s dark eyes, twinkling with a certain mischievousness, met his own, before taking Tommy fully in his mouth.

Tommy arched back with a moan as his cock was engulfed by a tight, warmth. It was so fucking good. The finger inside him nearly forgotten when Philippe swiped his tongue along the head.

Only nearly though, because a second finger slid alongside the first. When it was clear Tommy was loose, the fingers moved, slipping in and out. They prodded and pressed, curling, as if searching. 

“ _ Fuc _ k!” Tommy gasped out, a rush of pleasure running through him as Philippe touched him just right.

Philippe practically chuckled around him, but Tommy didn’t have it in him to feel any sort of shame. Not when Philippe touched him there again, not when Philippe started to bob his head at the same time. 

Tommy was drowning. A pressure built inside of him and he couldn’t do anything to calm it. He gripped Philippe’s hand painfully hard, toes curling into the sheets, anything to keep him from slipping away.

He couldn’t even remember what did it, either Philippe’s mouth or hand that broke the dam. His mind went blank for a split second as he’s crying out with no warning, climax rushing through his whole being.

Tommy came back to himself with heavy breaths. He felt as if he melted into the mattress. Everything was alright with the world. He was happy and lazy, and nothing could be better than this. Fingers slipped out of him and he caught sight of Philippe wiping his reddened lips with the back of his hand. If he wasn’t floating in post orgasmic bliss, he would be horribly embarrassed.

Philippe laid back down right beside him. “Happy?”

In response, Tommy hummed, pleased. Immediately, he latched onto Philippe, cuddling close with an openness he didn’t think he was capable of before this moment.

They just laid together, arms around one another. A perfect moment of joy. 

But Tommy’s leg brushed against Philippe’s, skin against loose clothing, and Tommy realized Philippe never removed his pants. They were pressed together and it took a moment to register that Philippe was still hard. Tommy swallowed nervously. Had he come too fast for Philippe? “Um… you didn’t, uh… finish.”

Philippe shrugged. “Is no big deal. Do not worry about it.”

“It’s not fair though.” Tommy pouted. Lazy fingers worked their way to Philippe’s waistband. The orgasm had hazed over much of Tommy’s remaining shyness. 

Philippe gazed at him curiously for a moment, before sighing “If you want.” 

Carefully, Tommy pulled Philippe’s pants down. Not all the way, but enough to free Philippe’s cock. Tommy just stared, biting his lip as he took it in. It was intimidating, in the open, in front of his face. He wasn’t small and this was far beyond Tommy’s comfort zone. He could back out, he knew Philippe wouldn’t belittle him for doing so. But regardless, Philippe had done this for him, had given him one of the best nights of his life. He should return the favor. 

He glanced up at Philippe, his turn to seek permission. Philippe was looking down at him with heavy lidded eyes, licking his own lips before nodding.

Tommy finally wrapped his lips around the head. It was salty. Philippe’s fingers ran through his hair encouragingly, and that was enough for him to slip more of Philippe’s length into his mouth. 

He didn’t overthink it, just tried to recall what Philippe had been doing to him moments before. No teeth, that much he felt was obvious. Not too deep, he didn’t want to gag. But he hollowed out his cheeks and did his best to suck. Philippe offered careful instructions mixed with praise, his voice breaking every now and then with a gasp or moan. Though, to Tommy, every sound was praise. 

His head bobbed to whatever pace the hand in his hair set. His hand worked where his mouth didn’t reach and his tongue toyed with Philippe’s tip. All of it as he was told.

The more Tommy worked though, the harder it became to understand Philippe. His voice grew more desperate, but it took Tommy awhile to realize the words were in French. The meaning though was still felt.

The fingers in his hair soon tightened, painfully, as Philippe pulled him off. Tommy, in a panic, almost asked what he had done wrong, but Philippe replaced Tommy’s mouth with his own hand. 

Only seconds later, Philippe cried out with a loud “ _ Tommy _ !” arching up, and coating his stomach with white. 

Tommy starred as Philippe collapsed on his back, panting, pants still bunched up at his knees. His hair was a mess, curls sticking to his forehead, body shining with sweat, tired eyes shut. He was the most beautiful thing Tommy had ever seen.

After a moment, Philippe pointed over Tommy, murmuring something lazily in French.

“’M sorry?” Tommy asked, amused. It gave him a great deal of pride to see he had made Philippe forget English.

Philippe grumbled. “Eh… rag… in drawer. Clean. Promise.”

Chuckling, Tommy leaned over to grab said rag, and handed it over to Philippe.

Philippe quickly wiped off the mess he made of his stomach before tossing the rag onto the growing pile of used clothes on the floor. He took one more moment to kick off the remainder of his plaid pants, letting them join the mess, before pulling Tommy in tight, embracing him with a kiss. 

“Thank you.” Tommy hummed, nestling his head into the crook of Philippe’s neck.

Philippe replied in soft, content french, nestling even closer, eyes closed. It was clear he was already half asleep. 

Not that Tommy minded. It had been a long, wonderful night. It wasn’t long before Tommy was drifting off as well. Here in Philippe’s arms, Tommy felt safe and well… loved. While he didn’t want to guess at how Philippe truly felt about a man he had barely known for two weeks, Tommy liked to think it was mutual.

Either way, one thing was clear to him. Alex had been wrong. Philippe didn’t do anything Tommy hadn’t wanted, had been patient and caring, and given him the best experience Tommy could have hoped for. Philippe had been nothing short of amazing.

  
  



End file.
